Goodbye Yellow Brick Road
by Gripped you tight
Summary: Devastated and tortured by the loss of his brother, Dean Winchester begs Castiel to put an end to his misery. With the help of God himself, Castiel follows Dean into an Alternate Universe where Sam Winchester was never born.


**June 14, 2010**

The motel room smells like vomit. It's unpleasant to Castiel's sense of smell.

He finds Dean passed out in a drunken stupor on the bed; sprawled out, face down. He has one sock on, and no shirt. Empty liquor bottles surround every inch of the room along with empty fast food wrappers and pizza boxes.

Castiel can feel the sadness. It's overwhelming even to an angel. It actually pains him the air is so thick with regret and pain. He watches Dean for some time; taking in the peace Dean has in sleep even if just for a short while. But when Dean begins to talk in his sleep, then scream, Castiel realizes there is no peace for Dean.

There may never be again.

He waits for Dean to awaken, sitting in the darkness of the motel room; watching the moon rise. He knows he is able to witness this, and everything else the earth gives and receives because of Sam Winchester.

And Dean is paying for that sacrifice.

Castiel hears Dean begin to stir. He moans; thrashing in bed like a wild animal. Castiel considers the fact he may be having a nightmare but he also knows, deep down, this is just the way Dean lives now. In pain and torment. All the time.

Dean stumbles out of bed, practically falling all the way onto the floor before dragging his feet to the bathroom. Castiel listens as he relieves himself, and when Dean appears in the door way, the faint bulb light streaming out from behind him casting shadows on Castiel's face, he does not look surprised to see the angel.

"What the hell do you want?"

Dean grabs an empty bottle of Jack Daniels, shaking it and peering into the opening, only to find what he thought to begin with; it's empty.

Much like him.

His squinted eyes fall around the room searching for something, anything, to dull the pain or make him pass out again.

"Dean…" Castiel begins.

"Unless you came here with more fucking Whiskey or my fucking brother get the hell out. I've had just about enough of you and your fucking God and angels and-"

"Dean. I'm your friend."

Dean lets out a gruff laugh, slamming yet another empty bottle down onto the dresser. "Friend. That's rich. Really."

"How could you believe that I am not? After everything?"

Dean shakes his head making himself dizzy but he doesn't care. "Fuck you."

"I want to help you." Castiel whispers.

"HELP ME?" Dean screams, picking up the same bottle and smashing it against the wall. "You wanna help? Then kill me. Put me out of my fucking MISERY!"

"I can't. I won't." Castiel is still whispering.

"Then get the fuck out."

"Because I won't kill you?"

"Because you can't bring Sam back."

"No. I cannot."

"Then if you can't bring Sam back, and you can't kill me, what good are you?" Dean flops down onto the bed, the stiff mattress jabbing into his back.

"I can be here for you. Listen. So you do not have to be alone." Castiel finally stands from the chair he was sitting in. He walks slowly to the bed. "You don't have to be alone. You're choosing to be this way. You have people who care about you. Bobby I am sure is very worried."

Dean snorts, covering his face with his arm. "Right."

"Dean you cannot give up."

"Give up?" Dean sits up abruptly. "What is it you expect me to do? I've tried EVERYTHING! I've seen every fucking crossroads demon there is. I tried opening the Devil's gate! I tried fucking magic even!"

"You told Sam you wouldn't."

"Yeah, well I lied."

"This isn't what Sam wanted."

"Right. He wanted me to live some normal apple pie life. What a load of shit." Dean lies back down. "Just go. "

"Or I could stay."

"Just put me out of my misery. Kill me." Dean mumbles into the mattress.

"I wish I could take the pain away. I wish there was something I could do." Castiel sits gently on the edge of the bed.

Dean rolls his head to look at the angel. "Wipe my memory. Make me not remember."

"Dean…even if that were possible, is that really what you want?"

"It's got to be better than this." Dean grabs at his bare chest; his fingernails digging into his skin. "It's got to be better than this emptiness. I can't live without him. I just can't. He's my brother."

Castiel remains silent until Dean finally falls back asleep. He watches as Dean's chest rises and falls and he calls out for Sam even in dreams.

"There has to be something you can do." Castiel kneels before him, head bowed, at his mercy.

"Some of the others are talking, Castiel. About your…loyalty to him."

"He's my friend. So was Sam."

God nods. "Yes. I suppose they were." He sighs, waving his hand, allowing Castiel to rise onto his feet.

"He's already tried to bring Sam back." Castiel confesses.

God narrows his eyes. "That cannot happen."

"He's grieving. Badly. He wants to die."

God shakes his head, looking out onto the sunbeam cloud scattered skies of heaven. "I'm not exactly sure what it is you expect me to do."

"Could we…erase his memory? Like Sam never existed to him?"

"I don't see how that could possibly work. Even if I could, his interactions with anyone else in his life would be strained. Bobby would not be able to hold the right kind of relationship with him. He would literally have to start over somewhere new with no communications with anyone from his past."

Castiel considers this. "Do you know of the Djinn?"

"I may have. Why do you ask?"

"They form alternate realities for their victims. Making them think everything is perfect-"

"When in reality they are not." God finishes.

Castiel sighs. "Perhaps that is what we could do for him."

"Put him into an alternate reality? What do you think this is? Doctor Who?"

Castiel squints at God, unable to place the pop reference.

God waves his hand. "Never mind. Castiel, even if I could, you expect me to just throw him into some other dimension with no guidance? That could be dangerous."

Castiel swallows, looking out over the horizon. "I could be with him. Help him."

"In order to do that…" God begins.

"I'd need to be human."

God and his son remain quiet for a very long time. Castiel finally breaks the silence of the sunset.

"He's in pain." Castiel whispers.

God breathes out and the sun sets.

Hazel eyes flutter open; the blinding sun causing him to moan in discomfort.

He coughs; black soot escaping from his lungs.

His skin is on fire. It hums with the hot sun as it shines down on his sore and broken body. He rolls onto his side to find dead grass and rocks surrounding his face. He touches the ground lightly with his fingers; feeling the dust slip through his aching hands. He pushes himself up; the bones in his body cracking and repositioning themselves inside his own skin.

He blinks; trying to process where he is, how much time has passed; if any has at all.

Broken and scattered tombstones surround him at every turn and the same metal gate is there in the distance.

He coughs; his throat too dry to even speak a word. He spits black tar out of his mouth; his head spinning with visions and memories of things he'd rather forget.

He feels empty, but better than he ever has.

He feels nothing and it's beautiful.

He stands; legs wobbly and unsteady. He takes in the glow of the sun. The feel of life returning to every part of his being.

He's alive. He smirks. He's victorious.

The world still turns. People still laugh.

But he doesn't care about any of that. He doesn't care about anything. He's alive and that's as far as it goes.

Dean's face flashes inside his mind like a lightening bolt in a stormy sky. His smirk fades.

He knows he should find Dean. That it's what is supposed to happen now.

But part of him doesn't want to. It's a new feeling; not feeling anything.

It should feel wrong.

But it doesn't.

For the first time ever, Sam finally feels at peace.

Maybe Dean finally is too.

Dean Winchester throws his keys on the small table next to the front door and shuffles through the day's mail.

"Bill, junk, bill, bill…." His eyes examine a return label from 'St. James Church.' "Cas! You're not making donations to that hack of a church again are you?" He yells loudly.

Cas appears in the doorway of the kitchen, wiping his hands on a dish towel. "Maybe."

Dean sighs. "Dude, seriously? I've told you a million times not to give any of your money to those bible thumping freaks."

"Just because you believe in nothing, doesn't mean I have to. Besides you met that girl at the last BBQ." Cas raises an eye brow at his best friend.

"True." Dean thinks about the red headed minster's daughter he met two weekends ago. The same red head he's been on two dates with and all he's done is kissed. What has he become? "That place has brain washed me. I haven't even tried to sleep with her yet!" Dean flops down onto the couch.

"Aw, my little Dean is growing up." Cas ruffles his hair as he passes the couch on the way to his bedroom.

"Fuck you." Dean laughs reaching for the remote. "Hey what are you doing later?"

"I was thinking of going for a run with Chuck." Cas's voice travels through the apartment.

"Dude, that is so weird." Dean lands on an old rerun of Grey's Anatomy.

"What is?"

"You. And Chuck."

"What about me and Chuck?"

"You two spend WAY too much time together. And don't think I don't know where you are at 2am. I know you're in his apartment doing God knows what."

"We're friends. That's all. I don't know what's so weird about it." Cas laughs.

"He's our landlord! It's weird!" Dean protests.

"He's a nice guy. And you hang out with your parents! You're on your dad's softball team for Pete's sake!"

"Whoooooooooooooa. Me having dinner with my parents once a week and playing a sport is not the same as hanging with Mr. McCreeperson downstairs." Dean props his feet up on the coffee table.

"His name is Chuck." Cas shoves his feet off and back onto the floor giving him a 'don't you dare scuff up that new table' look.

"McCreeperson."

"Mom?"

Dean opens the front door to his parent's house, shoving his keys into his jacket pocket and heading straight for the kitchen.

"In here, Hun!" His mothers voice echoes through the long foyer.

"Hey, ma." He brushes her cheek with his lips and opens the fridge.

"You don't have food at your house?" Mary Winchester jokes.

"Sure I do. But your food tastes better." Dean takes a large bite of a green apple and sits at the kitchen counter and begins to leaf through the newest issue of Sports Illustrated. "Where's Dad?"

"Still at the garage. He'll be home soon." Mary chops some vegetables and peers at her only son. "How are you, Hun? How's the job?"

"Good." Dean mumbles between chews. "It's construction work. Same shit everyday."

"And Cas? How is my favorite almost-son?"

Dean laughs. "Fine. You know I never took him to be the telemarketing type but he can get anyone to buy anything. He's very persuasive."

Mary smiles. "And how's that girl you told me you met? Anna was it?"

Dean sighs, closing the magazine. "She's a minister's daughter. Can you believe it?"

"And you like her?"

"There's something about her. She's real."

Mary raises an eye brow at her son.

"Never mind."

"You must have it bad." Mary laughs.

"Shut up."

"Awwww, my poor baby!" Pieces of chopped pepper fly at Dean's head.

"Hey! Stop!" Dean ducks and puts his hands up in surrender.

"What's going on in here?"

John Winchester's voice booms off the walls and through the kitchen. Mary gives her husband a smile and throws one last piece of vegetable at Dean. "Hi, honey."

"What are you torturing Dean about this time?" John kisses his wife's cheek affectionately.

"Dean's in love."

"I NEVER said that!" Dean protests.

John raises an eye brow at his wife and she nods and smiles.

"He's in love." They both say in unison.

Dean groans and buries his face in his hands.

Dean's pinky finger hooks with Anna's. The moonlight reflects off the river into a million tiny little specks of glitter. Dean shakes his head at how he notices this shit now.

"What are you laughing at?" Anna asks softly.

"Nothing. Everything." He answers smiling.

"Well that's a start I guess." She intertwines all their fingers and smiles up at him; her green eyes shimmering from the reflection from the water.

Dean sometimes wonders how his life could be so perfect.

"So it's going well then?" Chuck huffs out as he jogs beside Castiel.

"Yeah, he's…happy."

"You don't sound happy."

Castiel stops, bending down to stretch, palms planted on his knees. "I am. Human life is…interesting."

"You've given a lot for him." Chuck stretches his arms above his head.

"He's given a lot for me too." Castiel eyes Chuck. "And why are you here? Keeping tabs on me?"

Chuck laughs. "No. Just figured you may need someone to talk to. Someone who knows." He shrugs.

Castiel nods then nudges him in the shoulder. "Anna? Really?"

"That was just for my own amusement."

Dean whistles as he pours himself a bowl of cereal. He hums as he chews, flipping through the morning paper. He taps his spoon on the edge of the ceramic bowl in tune with the music in his head.

"You do realize its 6am?"

Castiel's gruff and sleepy voice hits Dean's perky ears.

"Is it?"

Castiel shakes his head and flops down onto the couch. "So I'm assuming your date with Anna went well?"

Dean smiles. "Yeah."

Castiel cranes his neck wanting more answers. "Yeah? That's it? That's all the details I get?"

"There's nothing to really tell. Still haven't slept with her."

"And you're okay with that?"

Dean ponders this. "Yeah. I am. There's something special about this girl. She's got…dignity. Grace."

Castiel coughs, choking on thoughts and words he can't bring himself to say.

"Fine. Make fun of me. But when you find someone you really connect with you won't be laughing." Dean points to him as he makes his way back into his bedroom.

Castiel's eyes follow Dean.

"I'm not laughing." He whispers.

Castiel leans his head back against the couch and starts to giggle.

"Wow." He whispers.

He can feel Andy's breath on the side of his face. It's different. Weird. But enjoyable.

Dean had been the only man he had ever really had feelings for. The only man he had looked at like that. For a long time he even denied the fact that he even liked men. Well the entire time he was human. Which in reality really wasn't that long. And when he was an angel, the little he could remember of it now, he never really ever thought about sexuality. Of men and women. Or men and men. Or woman…never mind.

But he knows he felt something for Dean, even then. What it was he may never know.

No matter, the fact that Andy, the guy who poured him his coffee every morning at the coffee shop up the street, now breathing on his neck as they let the pot they just smoked invade their senses, is in fact nice.

Castiel rolls his head and their lips are so close he can almost taste the marijuana residue on Andy's bottom lip. He's cute. More than cute. He's not ruggedly handsome like Dean, but he was definitely more than cute. And he was funny in the normal way; not that unintentional way like Dean is.

Castiel needed to stop thinking about Dean. Dean had Anna, and even if he didn't he was straight. Castiel doesn't even have the guts to TELL Dean the fact he prefers men to women let alone how he feels about him.

"This is good." Castiel whispers.

"It is. It really is." Andy wastes no more time and presses his mouth hotly to Castiel's. It's a different feeling for Cas. His body is beginning to tingle in a way he's never felt before. One other time when Dean's hand brushed is he got a surge of something, but this feeling, is constant. Andy's lips are full as they invade Castiel's personal space. Everything is different now. And it's amazing.

When Castiel's tongue slides against Andy's, parts of Castiel that normally only come to life by his own hand, twitches and swells.

Andy pulls back and smiles gently. "First time kissing a guy?"

"That obvious huh?"

"Not technique wise. Just you're blushing."

Castiel blushes more. "Must be the pot."

"Yeah," Andy intertwines his fingers in Cas's. "Must be."

Suddenly the door opens and before Cas can even turn to look, the fog in his brain from the pot clouding everything, he hears Dean's deep voice.

"It smells like fucking pot in…What. The. Fuck?"

Andy stands, a bit wobbly, but never impolite, and sticks his hand out toward Dean. "Andy Gallagher. Nice to meet you."

"Uhhh…" Dean shakes his head and gives Cas a LOOK. "Yeah. Dean. Winchester. Cas's room mate."

"Right. I've heard a lot about you. Sorry about the smell. Cas assured me you'd be cool with it." Andy settles back down on the couch next to Cas.

"Yeah…" Dean slowly takes off his jacket, eying the bong now settled on his coffee table. "It's cool. Just didn't think Cas was the pot smoking type." He stares at Cas waiting for him to say something. He doesn't.

He just sits there, eyes glazed over, staring at Andy.

Then he notices it.

Swollen lips. On both of them. And not pot smoking swollen lips. And Andy is sitting oddly close to Cas. And their socked feet are touching.

They were…

Holy shit.

"I uh...I'm just gonna…yeah." Dean quickly makes his way into his room and closes the door. He leans his back against it, his heart racing.

Cas is gay?

Really?

How could he not have noticed?

Had he and just ignored it? No. No. No way.

Had Cas ever hit on him? Dean doesn't think so. Were things gonna change now?

A soft knock at the door throws Dean off his question downward spiral and he opens the door a crack. A squinty eyed Cas smiles at him.

"Can we talk?"

"Did your boyfriend leave?"

Cas could have corrected Dean. Told him Andy wasn't his boyfriend, but he felt it was a moo point. "Yeah. He left."

Dean opens the door the rest of the way and walks out into the kitchen.

"So?"

"So tell me what you're thinking."

"I'm not thinking anything."

"You are such a bad liar."

Dean sighs and leans his hands against the counter. "You should have told me."

"I was scared to."

"Why? Have I ever given you any reason to think I was homophobic or anything?"

"NO! Of course not. But…it's a huge thing. Not only to admit to your best friend but yourself too."

"So you are. You're gay."

Castiel nods.

"Wow. Okay. That's…cool. That Andy guy seems cool."

"He is. He's nice. It's been a long time since I've felt like this."

"So…." Dean draws imaginary circles on the counter top. "There's been other guys?"

"None I've actually been with. But guys I have liked, yes."

"Anyone I know?"

Cas could tell Dean. He could tell him that Dean has been the only man, only person, he has thought about. That all he wants it to make Dean happy. That Dean's smile makes the world align and every thing in the world perfect.

That when Dean laughs, he swears angel's get their wings.

But he figures now is not the time.

"No one you know, Dean."

The loud crack of the bat hitting the ball makes Dean's ears ring long after the second ball his father throws at him, whizzes past his head. They do this sometimes. Just to relax; let out some steam.

"You throw like a girl!" Dean yells to John.

"I wish you had been a girl!" His father throws back at him.

Dean shakes his head and smashes yet another ball past his father's head.

He jogs up to his father and takes off his baseball cap, wiping his brow.

"So, turns out Cas is gay."

John looks at Dean and chuckles softly. "You're just finding this out?"

"Wait, what? You knew?"

"It's pretty obvious, Dean." He pauses, eyeing his son. "Does it matter?"

"No! Of course not. He's still my best friend. He's still Cas."

"Then what's bothering you?"

"Nothing!"

John raises an eye brow.

"I can't talk to you about this."

"Of course you can. Out with it."

"Do you think…he ever like…?"

John smirks. "Liked you? Like that?"

Dean nods.

John puts his arm around Dean and leads him back to the car. "What would upset you more, Dean? If he did? Or if he didn't?"

"What do you mean you don't know where he is?"

Bobby Singer looks up from the fading old wood kitchen table into the hazel eyes of someone he thought was long past dead.

"I mean he ain't here. He hasn't been here in months. He just took off. He was quiet, real quiet and then he was just…" Bobby waves his hand outward.

Sam narrows his eyes. "And you just let him go?"

"What did you expect me to do? Shackle him in the panic room? He moved on. Isn't that what you wanted?"

"I wanted him to have a normal life! I told him to go find Lisa! Not drop off the face of the planet! He could be…" Sam runs his fingers through his long hair.

"Dead?" Bobby finishes.

Sam glares.

"I'm sorry. And trust me, no one would be as devastated if that were true, but you didn't see him the first few months you were gone, Sam. He was just…a shell of who he used to be. He was dead the second you jumped in that hole."

Sam sighs, pulling out a chair and sitting his large body down carefully. "It's not like I even want him to know I'm back. But…things are getting serious. There's…something going down. Something huge, and he needs to be a part of it."

"I have to tell you, Sam. I'm not sure what you being back is going to do to him."

"Maybe it's best then I just leave him be."

Bobby pours himself another tumbler of Jack Daniels and shoves the bottle at the newly resurrected Winchester. "I'm not sure what's best anymore."

"You've been awfully quiet lately."

Cas doesn't make eye contact with his best friend. "Just tired I guess."

"Bullshit. Spill. What's the problem?" Dean leans against the kitchen counter and watches as Cas stirs the macaroni.

He shrugs. "Guess there just isn't much to say when you aren't around a lot."

Dean groans. "Dude, is that what this is about? Anna?" Dean wraps his arm around Cas's shoulder. "Why didn't you say something? I thought you had that Andy guy? Listen, we could all hang out one night. Anna would be cool and listen if he's who you want to be with, I'm cool with it. "Dean pats Cas on the back and heads into the bedroom.

Cas continues to stir dinner. "He's not the one I want to be with." He says quietly.

"What are you watching?"

"Dude, seriously?" Dean eyes his best friend as he hands him a bowl of macaroni. "You've never seen 'Ferris Bueller's Day off'?"

"No." Cas takes a big bite of his dinner and stares at the TV for a few seconds. "What's it about?"

"I swear to God you're like from another world or something."

"He's falling in love with Anna."

Cas stares out at the water; eyes fixated on a school of swans making their way gracefully through the lake.

"This upsets you."

Cas shrugs. "It's not real."

"It is real. In fact it's very real. And it's what you asked for. You asked for Dean to be happy. To forget."

"John and Mary Winchester were never something that was discussed." Cas shakes his head. "It's all a lie."

"This world is made up of happiness. None of the horrible things that happened to Dean in his real life happened to him here. His mother and father never died. He never hunted. He had a normal childhood. He has a normal and functioning relationship with his parents. He has the ability to let people in emotionally. This Dean is able to be normal."

"All because Sam never existed."

Chuck sighs. "If that's the way you want to look at it, yes."

Dean piles another 100 pound cinderblock on top of the structure. He wipes his brow and takes a step back to make sure its level.

"Hey! Winchester. There's a hot red head here to see you!" Ramirez yells to him. Dean turns around to find his co worker making the humping motion to him as Phillips, Watterson and Gold laugh.

Dean pushes Ramirez, hard, as he passes, shucking off his dusty gloves. He finds Anna, dressed in a flowery sun dress waiting for him at the opening of the construction site. She waves a brown paper bag in the air, smiling from ear to ear.

"I brought you lunch!" She yells over the loud chaos from the drills and jackhammers.

When he reaches her he quickly dives in for a kiss, ignoring the whoops and whistles from the workmen on the scaffolding.

She giggles, wrapping her arms around him. He lifts her off the ground, her sandals dangling off her toes in the air.

Dean knows in this moment he has never been happier.

"So Anna, Dean tells us your father is a minister."

"Yes, Mrs. Winchester. Has been since I was a little girl." Anna wipes her mouth with her napkin; the epitome of manners and dignity.

"It's nice to grow up with faith."

Dean eyes his mother. "I have faith."

"Yeah, in the White Sox." John jokes.

"Don't listen to them. I have plenty of faith." Dean leans in and whispers softly to the girl who may very well be the girl of his dreams. She smiles and presses her forehead to his.

"Well better late than never." She whispers back.

"You'd better get in there before your mother starts showing Anna your baby pictures."

Dean laughs, taking the wet but clean dish from his father's hand. "She would never."

John smiles; continuing to wash the dishes from dinner. "I'm thinking I may cave and get your mother that dishwasher for Christmas."

"That's only because you're tired of washing the dishes at night."

"Keep it up. Soon this is gonna be you." His father points his finger at him.

Dean rolls his eyes at his father. "It's a little soon to be talking marriage here, Dad."

"Do you love her?"

Dean looks out the entrance way and can see the faint glimpse of Anna's red hair in the desk lamp by the couch. He feels himself begin to smile. "Well, I can't believe I'm about to tell you this, but…" Dean looks at John. "I haven't slept with her yet. And I don't care."

John nods, shutting the water off and handing his son the last dish. "I'd buy some dish soap."

Sam drums his fingers against Bobby's refrigerator as he reaches for a beer.

"Sam."

Sam cracks it open, not turning around. "Nothing?"

"No." Bobby pauses, staring at the younger Winchester. "Is that what you come here for? To ask me questions you already know the answers to and drink all my beer?

Sam nods, not affected, staring out the small kitchen window over the sink. He scans the row of broken down cars and when his eyes land on a dusty black hood he shakes his head.

"He left the Impala?"

"Woke up one morning and found it here. Tried to call him and his cell is shut off." Bobby answers.

"And Lisa?"

"Never heard from him."

Sam finally turns around nodding. "Well I guess that's it then."

Bobby squints at Sam. "That's it? You just give up?"

Sam shrugs.

"What's wrong with you, boy? That's your brother. You think Dean would just give up on you like that?"

"No. Probably not. But he obviously wants to be left alone and right now I don't have time for some childish game of hide and seek. I have work to do." Sam slams the bottle down on the counter and brushes past Bobby.

He watches in pain as the second Winchester this year walks out his front door.

"Wait…I…need…I…can't…" Dean slows to stop, bending down to balance his hands on his upper thighs. His lungs feel like they are about to explode in his chest.

"You know, considering the amount of weight you life every day on site, I'd think you'd be able to run a few blocks without getting winded." Cas smirks, walking back to his defeated best friend.

"Listen, marathon man, just because I'm strong doesn't mean I'm in shape." Dean stands up, wobbling a little. "My legs feel like Jell-o."

Cas sighs heavily, shaking his head. "Come on, just a few more blocks then I'll let you take a cab home."

Dean pulls his t-shirt on and reaches for his wallet and loose change on the dresser in front of him. His eyes wander to a pendant; the same pendant that's been hanging off his mirror ever since he moved into this apartment. He sees it every morning. His fingers graze it gently, waiting for some sort of memory or explanation to invade his head. Nothing ever comes.

He knows it's important. He just doesn't know why. He's asked his parents if they gave him a pendant when he was younger. They told him no. But he doesn't understand why he keeps it. Why he never wears it, just keeps it hanging there, in limbo, waiting. For what he doesn't know.

"You ready?"

Dean is wakened out of his haze by Cas's voice.

"Do you know where this came from?" Dean points to the pendant.

Cas eyes it. "Nope. Is it Anna's?"

Dean shakes his head. "No. I've had it forever. I just don't know where I got it."

"Maybe someone gave it to you. A long time ago."

Dean swallows. "Yeah. Maybe."

"So how are you feeling?"

Cas appears in the doorway of Dean's bedroom, eye brow raised.

"I think I'm dying."

"You're not dying, you just can't think of anything better to do."

Dean smirks at the one liner from 'Ferris Bueller.' "Good job."

Cas smiles back. "Do you want me to get you anything before I go?"

"Running again with Chuck?" Dean coughs, clutching his chest between words.

"Don't start." Cas pushes himself off the paneling and leaves Dean still coughing.

"Don't worry about me! I'll be fine!" Dean calls out after his best friend. "Bitch."

**_Jerk._**

Dean hears it inside his head, plain as day. He stills; listening for something else, anything else. The unfamiliar voice does not speak again.

"Hello?" He calls out, slowly sitting up in his bed.

He hears nothing.

"Jesus, my fever must be through the roof." Dean gets out of bed and pads barefoot to the bathroom, opening the medicine cabinet and shuffling through boxes of cold medicine and dusty condom boxes. When he finds the thermometer, he roughly slams the cabinet door shut.

He looks up into the mirror. His heart stops.

And he stops breathing.

Standing behind him is a very tall and muscular man, smirking. As if he knows something Dean doesn't know. As if in a way he's silently making fun of him. It's annoying.

He swallows, trying to allow breath to form inside his lungs.

"W-Who are you? What do you want?" Dean stammers out.

The man does not speak.

"Listen, take whatever you want. I don't want any trouble." Dean is afraid to make any sudden movements but like hell if he is going to let this intruder take anything that he and Cas have worked their asses off for, but for right now, calmness needed to prevail.

"Just take it easy, okay?" With one swift movement, Dean whirls around, his right fist flying.

It hits nothing but unoccupied air.

"Honey, you're probably just overworked and tired. Just get some sleep, drink some soup and relax."

"Mom, I'm telling you. I wasn't hallucinating."

Mary sighs. "Dean. You're not crazy."

"I know I'm not, which is why I'm telling you there was someone here."

"Then call the police."

"And tell them what someone was in my house then vanished?"

"Maybe you have a ghost." His mother offers.

Dean laughs. "Yeah, right. There's no such thing."

There's a small stream on the outskirts of town. It's small but it's loud and wanders underneath this small white wooden bridge. The bridge can barely hold one person. Dean found it by accident one night when his truck broke down and he had to walk back to his apartment.

Now sometimes he comes here when the world seems too chaotic. When he just wants to remember how beautiful the world is. He's never told anyone about this place, not even Cas. If anyone would understand it would be him, but Dean likes to have one thing, just one thing that's his. That no one else can own but him. He's never seen anyone else at the bridge which Dean isn't sure he finds comforting or frightening.

He skips stones on the water; each one skimming the surface perfectly. He smirks remembering the river his Dad used to take him to every summer when he was a kid. Just to fish all weekend. Just him and John against the world.

When the water stills, Dean looks down over the old rickety railing, his reflection staring back at him. He looks in a mirror everyday. To make sure his hair isn't a mess. To check his teeth after he eats. But the only time he sees himself, really sees himself is when he looks in this stream. Distorted. Unsure of where the wind will take him. Sometimes he's still. Sometimes he's going so fast he doesn't have time to latch onto anything. But mostly in the stream, he sees someone shattered.

Sometimes he feels alone even when he is surrounded by people. Sometimes he feels like a stranger with his own family. Sometimes Cas looks at him; head cocked, lips pursed and Dean wonders if Cas knows something he doesn't.

But somehow, someway, being at this stream, everything makes sense.

His face reflects back at him and he sighs heavily. He closes his eyes for a brief moment letting the soft wind caress his face. When his eyes reopen his reflection is no longer alone on the surface of the stream. Behind him, just centimeters behind him, is the face he saw just a few day s earlier in bathroom mirror.

A face so unfamiliar but comforting all the while. Dean thinks for split second he should be nervous. Annoyed. Concerned about this vision he keeps seeing of a man he's never met but feels he knows deep down to his bones. He wants to turn around but somehow he knows when he does the vision will be gone. No one will be there. Just a memory that doesn't exist. A memory of something that never happened.

Dean isn't sure how that can be. How he can remember something that never took place. How he can know someone he's never met. How he feels he belongs somewhere else.

"How do I know you?" Dean whispers. The whisper fades in the breeze.

A reflection smiles.

**_You're bossy. And short._**

Dean's throat closes.

How can you remember something that never happened?

"What's wrong?"

Dean looks across the table into green eyes. Anna smiles and he feels the weight he's been carrying slowly dissipate from his body.

"Yeah. I'm sorry. I just got a lot on my mind." He squeezes her hand on the table and gives her a tiny smile.

"So, I might have something to tell you that will cheer you up."

"Oh?" Dean takes a large sip of his wine.

"I love you."

The wine that was in Dean's mouth now stains the white table cloth of the expensive Italian restaurant.

"She tells you she loves you and you spit wine at her? I thought I taught you better than that."

Dean downs the shot of Jack Daniels John just poured for him and shakes his head. "I know. I know."

John pulls up a stool and sits beside his only son. "Dean, if you don't feel the same way…"

"No." Dean interrupts quickly and abruptly. "That's not it. I do…I…" He sighs heavily.

It's nearly midnight in the Winchester household and his father is sitting with him when he should be sleeping because he has to be at the garage in six hours and his mother is making him a turkey sandwich because never did finish his dinner.

He left Anna at her doorstep almost crying, barely hugging her goodbye because no matter well he was raised, how loved he was a child, how normal his life is, he finds the idea of committing to someone to that extent the scariest shit in the world.

"Then what's wrong, honey?" Mary sets the plate in front of him and gives her son a concerned look.

"I don't know!" Dean gets up from the stool and begins to pace. "Something feels…off. Wrong almost. I can't explain it."

"You just need to sleep on it. Eat some food, go home and sleep. In the morning you will have a much clearer head. I promise." John nods at his son and pushes the plate trying to coax him back.

_A black Chevy Impala rumbles down a long stretch of highway in the middle of no where. Dean knows the band blaring through the stereo speakers. His father used to listen to them constantly as a kid, fixing his old mustang in the garage._

_Dean hums along to the music, drumming his fingers along the steering wheel. _

"_Could we listen to something else? Please?"_

_Dean smirks, keeping his eyes on the road. "Like what? A bunch of kids who can't sing whining about their trust funds and BMW's?"_

"_What kind of music do you think I listen to?"_

"_Crap."_

"_And this isn't?"_

"_This is classic shit!"_

"_Exactly. Shit. Took the words right out of my mouth."_

"_Bitch."_

"_Jerk."_

Dean awakens; sweat soaked and heart racing. He looks around his dark room, his eyes trying drastically to adjust to the darkness.

He looks at the clock. 3:34AM.

His fingers quickly dial his cell phone; the green screen illuminating shadows on the wall.

"Dean? What's the matter? Are you ok?" His father's voice comes over the line hoarse and tired.

"Did you ever own an Impala?"

He knows he sounds nuts. He knows he sounds like he is on the verge of a nervous breakdown; like he is about to cry at any second.

He is.

"What?"

"Just answer the question. Please Dad."

"Um…" His father clears his throat. "No. I had the station wagon and the Mustang. That's pretty much it. I mean I bought a VW bus when your mother and I were first dating but when she found out she was pregnant with you I got the station wagon. And I got the mustang when you were about—"

"Seven." Dean finishes.

"Yes. What is this all about, Dean?"

"N-Nothing. Sorry to wake you Dad. I'll call you tomorrow."

Dean flips his cell phone shut and gently lies back down. His heart is racing so fast he can barely breathe. A single tear escapes his eye and he brushes it away quickly.

He's losing his mind.

"Do you believe in past lives?"

Cas stops mid chew and looks up at his roommate. "What?"

"Past lives. You know."

"Like reincarnation?"

"Yeah." Dean shrugs. "I guess so."

"I've never really thought about it." Cas rinses his bowl in the sink.

"I've been having these weird dreams."

Cas tenses. "Oh?"

"Yeah. Of things that never happened but…it feels so real."

"That's what dreams are supposed to do, Dean."

"No. These are real, Cas. Really real."

Cas swallows hard, unable to look at him. "Okay. What kind of things are you dreaming about?"

"A man."

Cas feels his stomach lurch. "A-A man?"

"Yeah. And I know him, even though I've never met him. But I know…he's important. Somehow."

"You could have met him, sometime in your life. Sometimes dreams can manifest something really small into something huge."

"You're not listening to me."

Cas turns around abruptly, eyes narrowed. "Because you're being ridiculous. There are no such things as past lives. You're just…tired. Or stressed." Cas gripping the edge of the counter to steady himself. He needs to stay calm.

"Stressed about what? My life is practically perfect!"

"So?"

"So! Don't you think that's weird?"

"It's weird to have a good life?"

"No. It's weird to have a PERFECT life!"

Cas walks past him.

"You're leaving?"

"Yes." Cas grabs his jacket and turns back to look at him quickly. "Because it's kind of annoying to hear someone complain about what a great life they have. Go whine to someone else."

The apartment door slams and Dean sighs heavily.

"He's having dreams." Castiel stands before Chuck, who is draped across his ratty couch in just a robe and tube socks, munching on Captain Crunch. He keeps trying to look around the once-angel to see the TV.

"Chuck!"

He groans. "Fine." He sits up, moans a little and stretches, patches of skin Castiel never wishes to see, poking out from beneath the fabric. "Dreams, huh?"

"This isn't supposed to be happening."

"No, you're right. It isn't."

"So why is it?"

"Perhaps his bond with Sam is stronger than even I could have foreseen."

"But Sam is gone."

Chuck sighs. "Not exactly."

Sam stares at the house in front of him. It is long past lived in. The last time he had been here, he remembers, was not so long ago, but he could tell the house has not been lived in for quite some time.

He should feel something.

He doesn't.

He hears the spokes of a bicycle behind him and then they stop. He turns to find a child, not much older than ten, now too staring at the house.

"You know someone who lives there?" The boy asks.

Sam reaches deep inside himself, searching, feeling around for some type of emotion. He feels nothing.

"I used to." He finally answers.

"Your mother is worried about you."

Dean looks across the boat at his father. His eyes are fixated on the water, brow furrowed, concentrating on his fishing line.

"I'm fine."

"Yeah, you seem fine."

Dean sighs. "Just haven't been sleeping well, is all."

John nods. "Any particular reason?"

Dean shrugs.

"Listen." John sets his rod down. "It's okay to feel anything you feel. Sad. Depressed. Overwhelmed. Scared."

"I'm not scared." Dean snaps.

"Of course not."

Dean keeps his eyes on the water for a while, taking in the silence. The calm of the earth in that moment.

"How come you and Mom never had anymore kids?"

Dean notices how his father tenses visibly next to him. He waits for his father to answer, but John remains silent.

"Dad?"

John takes a deep breath. "When you were about five years old your mother got pregnant. But there were complications and during her 5th month she lost the baby."

Dean feels his blood run cold. "W-Why didn't you ever tell me?"

"It was too hard. Your mother couldn't even talk about it for years. She still barely can. And years turned into more years and it was just something that never got discussed."

Dean feels his chest begin to ache in such a way he has never felt before.

"I wanted to have him buried. Get him a tombstone. Put his name on it. He was…part of our family. Your mother couldn't bare the thought. So we just…pretended it never happened."

"H-him?" Dean chokes out.

John looks at his son. "Yes. His name was Sam."

Dean's fingers gently caress the pendant in his hand. He stares at it, thinking that perhaps with some type of super power he might now possesses, or a cool Jedi mind trick, he'll be able to place where he got it from.

He squeezes it tightly in his palm, the sharp edges digging into his skin. He feels something rising inside of himself. He isn't sure if its anger. Or confusion. Guilt. Betrayal. He isn't quite sure. Maybe it's a mixture of it all. But it's all too much to take. He wants to throw up. Put his hand through the wall. Scream.

He's going crazy. He knows it. He is spinning out of control and he has no idea why, or how.

When he reopens his hand he finds two tiny puncture wounds beginning to pool with blood.

He begins to laugh uncontrollably. He has no idea why he finds this so funny. But his laughter echoes through his room and down the hall and into the rest of the apartment. He laughs so hard he falls onto the floor, arms around himself, trying to control the shaking in his body from his laughter.

He sits up, still giggling after what seems like hours of laughing. He secures the pendant around his neck. He looks down at the stigmata on his hand and wonders if perhaps Jesus himself was crazy.

"We need to do something."

"We?" Chuck takes a long swig from his bottle of Jack Daniels and stares off at the TV.

"Yes. His father told him he was supposed to have a brother!" Castiel yells.

"Well he does have a brother." Chuck rolls his eyes.

"With all due respect, this is serious. Dean is slowly losing it."

Chuck sighs, sitting up all the way and turns off the TV. "This is what you asked for. What he asked for. A world completely different than the one he used to live."

"A world without Sam!"

"And he got it! Mary Winchester never had Sam."

"He's…remembering."

"That's impossible."

"Well something is really happening to him! He barely sleeps; he hasn't been to work in weeks. He swears he hears voices and sees things; sees iSAM./i"

"I just don't see how that's possible, Castiel. Yes, it's true. Sam is alive and back on earth. But in this reality he doesn't exist. He was never born." Chuck stands, grabbing the bottle of alcohol and heading into the kitchen.

"Let's just say, for arguments sake, that a soul can travel through parallel worlds."

"What do you think this is? Some bad sci fi show on the CW? This is all just magic in a sense, son. Souls can't travel through something that isn't even real."

Castiel gives his father a strange look.

"Okay, listen. Dean, in a sense, is in a holding pattern. His body is here. His mind, false memories, are all in this…place. This world I created for him and you. Everyone he sees around him, apart from you, is just a figment of his imagination. A figment of something I made for him. For you."

"Then where is he really? If his body is here, where is his soul? Where is the part of him that remembers Sam?"

Chuck smiles at his son's naïve mind. "Purgatory. The same place Sam's is."

"You have to know there's something wrong with you, son." Bobby Singer stares at Sam Winchester from across the room. "You're…"

" Stronger? Focused? Determined?"

"Scary as shit."

Sam smirks, sitting back on the ratty old couch. "Whatever gets you through it, I suppose."

"This is serious, boy."

Sam groans. "Fine. I get it. You're worried. I suppose that's what you're supposed to be. But, I feel great. I'm a better hunter than I have ever been. I have nothing holding me back now."

"You talking about your emotions, or your brother?"

"Like I said, whatever gets you through it."

"You have to know there's something wrong with you, son."

Dean stares across the living room in the house he grew up in, into eyes that match his own.

"I know."

"Just tell us what's wrong, honey. Make us understand." His mother's worried voice bounces off familiar walls.

"I…can't."

"Dean, do you want to talk to someone? I have a friend. Someone who comes to the shop. He's a doctor. Maybe he can recommend someone for you to talk to."

Dean glares at his father. "You think I'm crazy?"

"No. We don't. We really don't." His mother is quick to chime in. "But maybe if you talked to someone, anyone about how you're feeling…"

"You wanna know how I'm feeling? You REALLY wanna know? I feel iempty/i. Like I'm walking around without my insides. Like my heart has been ripped out of my chest." Dean clutches his shirt, the pendant's chord tearing and breaking away from his neck. He holds it in his hand, the sharp edges digging into his skin giving him a warm and familiar feeling of pain.

"You're not empty! And you're not alone! We're here. We've always been here." His mother stands, rushing to him.

"Don't TOUCH ME." Dean screams, shielding himself with his hands. It's his fathers turn to stand, gently grabbing his wife's elbow, pulling her back against him.

"Just calm down, son." John whispers.

Dean snorts. "Son. "

"What is that supposed to mean?" John challenges.

"Nothing." Dean mumbles.

"What can we do to help?" Mary reaches out for her son again.

"You can leave me alone." Dean again jerks away from his mother and thunders toward the door.

The door slams and worlds collide.

"Dean you need to get up."

Cas stares at Dean's back as he leans against the door frame of Dean's bedroom. Dean has been in bed for days. He doesn't eat. Or speak.

Dean's eyes stay fixated on the pendant. It lies in his palm, shiny and out of place. Dean feels the tears stain his pillow but he can't make them stop. He can't make anyone understand. Not even Cas.

"Dean. Please."

He rolls over, wet eyes unfocused and distant. "Please what?" He chokes out.

"Please get out of bed. Please eat something. Please talk to me."

"There's nothing to talk about." Dean continues to lay there, fingers clutched around a piece of jewelry he isn't sure how he got but cannot seem to part with.

Cas enters the room cautiously and sits gently on the bed. "Dean. You stink."

This gets a very small smile out of Dean. "Doesn't matter. "

"Yes it does. I have to live with you."

Dean stares absently at the wall in front of him. "Cas, have you ever felt like…everything around you feels like a dream. Like you're dreaming and you can't seem to wake up. You know that none of it is real and no matter how hard you try you can't wake yourself up?" His voice is quivering and Cas lays his hand gently on Dean's arm.

"Dean. I'm not sure what is going on with you. But I can assure that this isn't a dream. This is real."

Dean rolls his head to the side, a look of pure defeat on his face. "In dreams everyone tells you that."

"Hello, Dean."

Dean turns to find his scruffy, sandal-footed landlord smiling at him. He closes his mail slot and mumbles a I'Hi'/I to him.

"How have you been? Haven't seen you around lately."

"Haven't been feeling well." Dean tries to maneuver around the odd man but Chuck stands firm.

"Yeah, Castiel mentioned that. Anything I can help with?"

"Doubt it. I'll see you around."

"You know, Dean…" Chuck begins following behind Dean up the stairs. "Sometimes it's the people we least expect to understand the most."

"How insightful. Now if you would excuse me…" Dean tries to unlock his door with shaky hands.

"Dean." Chuck touches his arm and a wave of peace radiates through his body. His skin feels warm and the peace travels from his head to his feet. Dean slumps against his door and within seconds he begins to cry.

"I can't do this anymore." Chuck catches Dean as he falls backwards into his arms. Chuck kneels with him, pulling Dean against his own body and rocks back and forth trying to soothe the young man.

"Shhh, my son. Just breathe. I assure you everything is going to be alright. You just need to have faith."

Dean begins to laugh, his entire body shaking with fear and confusion. "Faith. Mmm. Right. The kind of faith that took a child away from my parents? The kind of faith that killed Cas's parents in a car wreck?"

"That's what Castiel told you?"

Dean blinks, memories of the night he and Cas stayed up till 4am talking about their childhood coming into focus. He closes his eyes trying to remember the entire conversation. He knows Cas told him that. How else would he know?

"Yes…"Dean answers hesitantly.

"Then it must be true."

Dean lies in Chuck's arms for hours. As odd as it feels, as odd as it IS, it is the first time in months Dean has felt any sort of normalcy. Now he can understand why Cas spends so much time with him. He may be a weird hippie, but at least he's calm and not plagued with the notion that perhaps every second you live is just a lie.

There is a plague that has overtaken Dean's mind. This sickness that has turned him from a normal everyday person to a sick, sullen and phobic person.

He is afraid to leave his house. He is afraid to see anyone. He cannot eat. Some days he sleeps for 20 hours a day. Then there are times when days and days pass without any sleep at all.

He's looked it up. He knows the diagnosis.

Paranoid schizophrenia.

But there is no way in hell he is going to get locked up in some padded room. If he told anyone, even Cas, what he's been seeing, hearing, they would lock him up for sure.

Who the hell hears and sees what Dean himself thinks is the adult version of his dead baby brother.

Now THAT'S crazy.

Cas finds Dean sitting on the floor in the living room surrounded by pictures from his childhood. Him and his parents on vacation. Him and Mr. Winchester camping. Dean's middle school and high school pictures.

"Dean, what are you doing?"

"It all seems so perfect, doesn't it? Two parents happily married. Good childhood. Vacations. We weren't rich but we never suffered. I never had any illnesses. Never broke a bone. Don't you find that strange?"

"No, Dean. I call that lucky. Some people get a good hand. Some are not so lucky. Perhaps you should be grateful instead of questioning it."

Dean bursts into a fit of uncontrollable laughter. "Oh Cas. You and your faith. Does it say in the bible that crazy people should be burned at the stake? Maybe I'm a witch! I see things I cannot explain. I hear things!"

"Dean, please stop." Cas bends down in front of Dean. "Let me help you." He gently touches Dean's shoulder.

"DON'T FUCKING TOUCH ME. YOU DON'T GET TO TOUCH ME!"

Cas jumps up, scared of Dean's abnormal outrage.

"Your parents died in a car accident huh? HUH? There is no fucking record of any CASTIEL NOVAK EVER BEING BORN. SO WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU?" Dean picks up his laptop, throwing it against the nearby wall, where it smashes into pieces.

Cas backs away. "Dean, just calm down okay? You're not thinking straight."

"Who. Are. You?" He demands.

This had all gone too far. Dean had reached his breaking point. He can't decipher between what's not real and…what's not real.

"Dean, please…"

Cas watches as Dean rips the pendant from around his neck and gives it the same demise as the laptop. It shatters apart and white hot blinding light radiates through the apartment. The sound it makes, the screams and loud screeching causes Dean and Cas to both fall onto their knees. They cover their ears to try and keep the awful noise from reaching their brains.

It does not work. The apartment begins to crumble; plates falling out of now open cabinets, glass shattering. The world begins to turn on its axis. Dean and Cas slide against the wood floor, slamming into the door.

This world was falling apart. Coming apart at the seams.

And Dean Winchester is stuck somewhere in the middle.

**May 13, 2011**

Dean's eyes gently flutter open and he immediately feels as if his insides are being grinded in a blender. His whole body is sore from his head down to the soles of his feet. He moans; writhing a bit to find he is restrained. His eyes widen and he looks up to find his hands chained and bound to a small and very uncomfortable twin bed. He struggles; jerking his wrists a few times only to find there is no escaping.

He panics, breathing heavy and quickly looking around at his surroundings. The walls are made of what seems to be solid iron with strange and demonic symbols drawn on them. He looks above him to see the largest symbol of them all with a large fan circling every so slowly, almost taunting him. Sunlight breaks through the opening around the fan.

He begins to scream.

After several minutes, his throat becoming dry and scratchy, the door to room he is locked in opens. It creeks and grinds hauntingly as it opens and Dean's eyes try to adjust as he squints at two bodies standing in the doorway. He can faintly hear them talking.

"Who the hell are you? What do you want?" He screams.

His voice. It sounds…different. Rougher. Gruffer.

"Where the hell am I?" He demands.

"Dean."

He stills. He knows that voice. How? How does he know that voice?

"Where's Cas. Where the hell is Castiel?"

"Right here, Dean."

It's Cas's voice, but his is also different. Deeper.

"Cas?" Dean whispers.

Cas appears as if by magic next to the bed. He looks down at Dean, head cocked, eyes concerned. "How are you feeling?"

"How do you think I'm feeling? I'm tied up! Untie me! Where the hell am I?" Dean jerks his wrists, pain radiating down his arms.

"Dean, please lie still." Cas asks gently.

Dean stops.

"I can't believe you did this to me. What kind of hospital is this? What the hell are these symbols!"

"Dean, you are not in a hospital."

"Then where did they take me?"

"They?" Cas squints down at him.

"My parents. I knew they didn't believe me."

"Dean." Castiel sighs slowly and sits gently down at the end of the small bed. "No one sent you anywhere. You're in the panic room. At Bobby's house."

"Who the FUCK is Bobby! UNTIE ME!" Dean struggles again. He eyes Castiel with strong glares. "What the fuck are you wearing? Where did you get that coat from?"

"Dean, there are things you need to know. Things I should have told you a long time ago."

"What are you talking about?"

"The past 18 months you have been living in an alternate universe."

Dean stares at his best friend, studying how stone faced Cas is while telling him this story. Dean tries to also keep a straight face, but it doesn't work. He bursts out laughing.

"Right."

"It's the truth. Where you are now, this is the real world."

"Why are you doing this to me?" Dean pleads. "Just let me go. I'm not crazy."

"No," Cas touches Dean's arm gently. "You're not."

Dean blinks.

"What I am telling you is the truth. There are many things that are not going to make sense to you right now. Where you came from, who you are. Memories. You're going to need to sort through everything inside your mind. To make sense of it all. But I assure you. This is real. Where you are is very real."

"Where I was, was real." Dean whispers.

"In a sense yes. But it was more like a dream. A suspended state. Your body was there, your mind with memories implanted, but your soul was not." Cas begins to explain.

"My soul? What the hell are you talking about, Cas? Come on. Jokes over. I want to see my parents."

"Dean. I'm sorry but your parents are dead. "

Dean's chest tightens and his stomach lurches. "No. I just saw them. They…"

"They were very much alive in the alternate state, yes. But here in the real world, they are dead. And have been dead for quite some time. I'm sorry, Dean. I really am. This is all my fault."

"Why, did you kill my parents?" Dean can barely speak.

"No. I did not. But it was my idea to take you away from this. From the pain you were in."

"Pain? Why? I…" Dean's head is spinning. He feels as though he may throw up. He turns his head to the side and does.

"Now what do I do?"

Cas's voice is quivering. He is near break down.

"Keep yourself together, Castiel."

"He has no idea what's real."

"He didn't in the other world either."

"How did this happen? How did it all come apart?"

God closes his eyes as the universe's wind kicks up and spreads through the heavens.

"Sam." He finally answers.

"Sam?"

"Yes, Sam. Their bond…is not something I could ever have imagined."

"They are brothers. Of course they have a bond."

"No. It's deeper than that. It isn't family. You have bonds with your own brothers but not like Sam and Dean Winchester. Theirs is cosmic." God gently touches the side of his sons face. "You also have this bond. With Dean."

Castiel pulls back gracefully. "I assure you father, I do not."

"Everyone has a soul mate, my son. Even angels."

Castiel untied Dean before he left. He isn't really sure how or when Castiel left. All he remembers is getting sick and then waking up to find himself untied and cleaned up.

Dean paces the panic room. Eyeing the symbols, picking up the knives and shot guns. He feels something when he handles them. Like it was second nature. He knew exactly how to use them even though he had never handled a gun before in his life.

His parents didn't believe in guns.

But as Dean turns the pistol over in his hands he felt…empowered. Important.

There are soft footsteps outside the door and Dean carefully walks to it. He presses his ear against it, but as solid and heavy as it is, he can barely really hear anything.

"Hello?"

He still isn't sure why he is locked in here. Why Castiel hasn't been back. Who Bobby is. What he's expected to do. Is this some sort of new treatment in psych hospitals?

But Cas seemed so convincing. But yet…he wasn't Cas. Not the Cas Dean knows. But yet in the same sense he was. He was familiar. Like as annoying as his perfect speech and robotic movements were, they were comforting. Known.

The lock on the door sends shivers down Dean's spine as it is undone, screeching and scraping like the sound a haunted house would make in the middle of the night. Dean steps back, not knowing what will meet him on the other side.

The door opens slowly and sunlight barrels in from windows he can faintly see in what seems to be a small basement beyond the door.

A large figure blocks most of the sunlight.

"Where am I?"

"Dean."

The voice.

It's the voice. It's…

The figure steps forward.

Dean takes a gigantic step back; backing up into a chair and falling over it. The man in front of him steps forward and Dean scrambles to his feet, holding a knife out in front of him.

"D-Don't come any closer!" Dean threatens.

"Dean, take it easy, okay?"

"How do you know my name! Who are you?"

"Dean, put the knife down and we'll talk." The man fans his hands out, reaching for the knife.

"DON'T COME ANY CLOSER! WHO ARE YOU!"

The man drops his arms, sighs gently and frowns sadly.

"It's me, Dean. Sam."

"Sam? Sam who?"

But yet he knows that name. He feels like he already knows the answers to questions that don't exist.

"Sam. You're brother."

"I want to go home."

Castiel stands perfectly still as Dean paces.

"This is home."

"No. My REAL home. I want to see my parents."

"Dean, your parents are dead. I'm sorry."

"NO!" Dean picks up his glass of water and throws it against the wall. It smashes into large shards of sharpness but Castiel doesn't flinch.

"Yes. They are. That world isn't real."

"YES IT IS. This isn't real. What the hell is this place? What are all these symbols? WHY ARE THERE LIKE A MILLION GUNS AND KNIVES IN HERE? Who the hell IS BOBBY? And why is the dude I've been having dreams about telling me he 's my BROTHER?"

"Cause he is. And these symbols are anti-demonic and anti-possession symbols. And Bobby was one of your fathers best friends. And the reason there are so many guns and knives around here is because Bobby, your father, Sam and you are all hunters."

"Hunters." Dean says slowly. "And what exactly do we hunt, Cas?"

"Demons. Ghosts. Shape shifters…Lucifer."

Dean bursts out laughing and continues to laugh so hard he has to sit down. "Oh, Cas. Thank god for you. If you weren't here I'd probably be way worse."

Cas stares at the man who in a short time became the most important person in the world to him.

"I highly doubt that, Dean."

Dean isn't sure if Cas left the door to the panic room open on purpose or if he really did just forget to lock it. Either way Dean was free.

He finds Bobby and Sam upstairs in the kitchen and neither of them look surprised to see him which pretty much answers the door question for Dean.

"Uh…hey."

Sam gives Dean a small smile and pushes a chair out across from him with his foot from under the table.

Dean sits hesitantly. "Uh look." Dean clears his throat. "I'm not really sure exactly what happened but thanks I guess for taking care of me. I've just been really loopy lately. I think it was Mono."

Bobby leans forward, eyeing Dean carefully; eyes squinted. "What exactly do you remember, Dean?"

Dean is a bit intimidated. "Uh. I was arguing with Cas in our apartment and then I woke up downstairs."

"You're…apartment?" Sam asks slowly.

"Yeah. " Dean looks back and forth between the two. "I'm not sure what's going on here."

"Dean, you don't have an apartment."

"Oh, no? Then where do I live?"

Sam rubs the back of his neck and leans back in his chair. "We don't…live anywhere, really. We live everywhere."

"Could you be more vague here, Sam?"

"The hunts. You know motels." Sam is giving Dean the oddest look.

"Hunts. Oh, right. The monsters." Dean fans his fingers out in sarcastic fear.

"Dean, this is real. I'm not sure…where you've been. But this is your real life." Bobby sounds so reassuring. Like he really believes everything he is telling Dean.

"Did my parents bring me here?" Dean asks.

Sam pales and Bobby's eyes widen. "You're parents?"

"Yeah. My parents. I know they thought I needed to talk to someone but I'm really not sure what kind of therapy this is. I mean the only reason I haven't run for the hills yet is because Cas assures me…"

"Dean, our parents…are…dead." Sam tells him softly.

"_Our_ parents?"

"Dean. Yes. I'm your brother."

"I don't have a brother."

"Yes. You do."

"No. I don't. I mean my mother was pregnant once after me but she had a miscarriage."

"A miscarriage?" Sam huffs. "And who told you THAT?"

"My father!" Dean stands; fists at his sides.

"Okay, okay. We just all need to calm down. Dean, you must have some really traumatic stuff happen to you while you were away…" Bobby begins.

"Away from where? Who the fuck are you people? Listen carefully to me. My name is Dean Winchester. And my PARENTS-"He turns and glares at Sam. "-Are John and Mary Winchester and very much alive. I live in Lawrence, Kansas with my best friend Castiel Novak."

"Dean, no one is really named Castiel." Sam tries to offer some logic. Dean considers this. He actually always did think Cas's name was weird.

"His parents were hippies."

Sam and Bobby look at each other and then shrug, that answer actually making a lot of sense.

"Dean what can I do to prove to you that…this is your real life? That…whatever it is you remember about this other life is just…a dream?"

"Nothing. Cause I'm going home. I'm not staying here."

"No. You need to-"

Bobby holds his hand up to Sam and shakes his head. "Okay." He turns to Dean, and nods. "If you want to go, Son, we can't keep you here."

"Thank you. Finally." Dean pushes in his chair and gives Sam one last look. Sam's eyes are wide with disapproval.

"Here." Bobby walks to the hooks on the wall next to the back door and takes a set down. He tosses them to Dean. "Take the Impala."

"The...Impala."

"Yeah. Used to belong to your father."

Dean sits in the driver seat. He touches the leather on the steering wheel, taking in the way its rough yet soft along the palms of his hands. He runs them down and around several times; he feels a sense of home he hasn't felt in days.

The inside of the car smells of man, liquor, leather, gunpowder and cheeseburgers.

He listens to the purr of the engine. He can feel the vibration on his foot from the gas pedal. The whole car hums; and Dean can feel it in his veins. He's connected to this car. Like it's the earth pumping through his blood. He closes his eyes and his visions behind his eyes are flooded with memories of experiences he's never had.

Him as a kid riding in the back seat with another young boy. His father, driving, looking back from time to time smiling at him. Nodding in approval. Like he's proud of him. But Dean isn't sure for what.

He winces as another flash of images swarm his brain; he's older now, and so is the other boy. Dean is in the passenger seat and he's yelling at the boy as he drives. The boy is rolling his eyes and Dean just continues to yell. But then they are laughing and a sense of peace washes over him.

Dean isn't sure how things he's never done; dreams that invade his brain when he isn't dreaming; can feel so real. Maybe he is going insane. Maybe these visions are delusions. His mind playing tricks on him. But the feelings…how can feelings not be real. How can emotions be tricked?

Dean is suddenly shaken from his dream like state when the passenger side of the Impala is thrown open and the grown…over grown boy sits heavily in the seat next to him. He slams the door and puffs out a large breath.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm coming with you. I figure Lawrence is a bit of a drive from here and a little company never really hurt anyone." Sam gives Dean his signature reassuring smile and it actually comforts Dean.

"If you say so." Dean revs the engine and smirks. "I do love this car."

He just can't remember why.

Dean feels badly about leaving Cas behind, but Sam reassures him, many times, that he's sure he will see Cas again. That he isn't "far behind." Whatever that means.

So he drives. And it feels amazing.

His mind wanders to his parents; he wonders if they are okay. He wonders if this is what they expected when they checked him into…whatever type of treatment place they turned him over to. I'm sure they thought they were doing the right thing. That guy Bobby did say he knew them after all.

But he wasn't really sure what type of therapy this really could be with this strange man next to him claiming to be his brother.

Then it hits him.

"Sam" is sick. He's one of the patients. And Dean is now an accomplice in the escape of a mental patient.

Awesome.

"So…how long have you been there?"

"Huh?" Sam gives him a confused look.

"At uh…Bobby's. How long you been at Bobby's?"

"Today or…?"

"Whenever."

"Well I guess most of my life." Sam decides to play along. Maybe if he talks about their life, even if he's just talking in the first person instead of i'them'/i, Dean will remember something. "My father used to leave me with him when he used to go on…hunting trips."

Dean feels his heart begin to ache. This poor kid. He's so glad his father was so great. He never once thought about the life he could have had if he was just someone else.

"And where is your father now?"

"He's dead."

Dean winces. "And your mother?"

"Same."

"Do you have a girlfriend?"

"She died too."

Christ. Now Dean is a bit…concerned. What if Sam had KILLED all of them?

"What about you, Dean? Do you have a girlfriend or is it just you and Cas?"

Dean's eyes widen. "Dude, I'm not GAY!"

Sam bursts out laughing and holds his hands up in defense. "I never said you were. Just making friendly conversation here, man."

Dean sighs a sigh of relief and rolls down the window. It really is beautiful out on the open road. The soft sound of the engine just sounds awesome.

"Yeah. I have a girlfriend. Her name is Anna."

"Anna." Sam says slowly. "Her name is Anna?"

"Yeah." Dean gives a quick glance to Sam.

"Red hair. Tall. Thin?"

"Yeah… how did you know that?"

"I met her once."

Dean gapes at Sam. "What? How?"

"It was a long time ago. In another life."

Dean ponders this for a moment and then again needs to realize where this is coming from. Sam is obviously very sick. It's too late to turn back now but once they get to Lawrence he will make sure Bobby knows where he is and get him back, somehow.

"Do you parents know your coming?" Sam asks.

"Dude, they're my parents. I see them everyday. It's not like dropping in is something that needs to be announced with a post card."

"Well either way maybe you should call them."

"Good idea. Next rest stop I'll see if there is a pay phone."

"No need. Here. Give them a call now." Sam reaches into his jacket pocket and hands Dean his cell phone.

Dean carefully takes it; folding it over in his hand a few time. "What the hell is this?"

"Um…it's a cell phone."

Dean looks at Sam with a i'what the fuck'/i eye kink. "What the hell is a cell phone?"

At a rest stop just outside South Dakota, Dean tries to call his parents.

Some strange woman answers and says she's never heard of Mary or John Winchester.

He tries a second time and gets the same woman who screams at him to never call again.

He's confused. But he doesn't tell Sam. Anything that could lead to him looking anymore insane than he already does cannot be good. No matter how insane Sam is himself.

Sam pays for Dean's cheeseburger because for some reason he doesn't have his wallet. Sam assures him it's no problem.

As they sit in a small booth by the front window and eat in silence. Sam is constantly looking around; eyeing each person as they pass. He even eyes the old man sitting at the counter eating his pie.

Mmm, pie. Dean wants pie.

"I want pie."

"Of course you do." Sam waves the waitress over and orders their best piece of pie.

Dean blinks. "Thanks."

"I'm used to it."

"What?"

"Nothing."

The waitress sets the piece of apple pie down in front of Dean then scoots next to him in the booth. She flashes him a huge flirty smile.

"I'm flattered, really, but I'm seeing someone." Dean tells her with a gentle smile.

Sam spits out his coffee. Dean is what? Did he seriously just turn down this waitress? Who the HELL was this pod person Dean?

Sam eyes the waitress as she continues to stare at Dean.

Sam's hand gently glides to his back pocket for Ruby's knife.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you, Sam." The waitress purrs.

Dean looks back and forth between them. "Friend of yours, Sam?"

"No." Sam answers through gritted teeth.

Dean jumps about ten feet in the air and smashes back against the window when the waitresses eyes turn black.

"WHOA! What in the hell!"

"My thoughts exactly." Her eyes turn back to emerald green and she props her chin up on her palm. "Dean Winchester. Been a while. Where ya been hiding?"

"Do I know you?"

"Well not me exactly, but you know most of my brothers and sisters. Or you did before you and your Neanderthal brother here killed them all."

"Okay, he's not my brother and I have never seen you before in my life. And I sure as hell have never killed anyone."

"It's a sin to lie you know, Dean."

"What are you talking about? Okay time to go." Dean motions for the waitress to move out of the booth but she doesn't budge. He looks at Sam for help.

Sam doesn't need any demon to know Dean isn't on top of his game right now. He isn't sure what exactly this demon wants; whether it is just to skin them alive for what they have done in the past or if there is some new evil end game in the works; but either one doesn't matter. They need to get out of there and now.

Sam lunges and stabs her square in her chest with Ruby's knife. She screams and electricity strikes through her body.

"Come on, now! Let's go!" Sam yells ignoring the screams and gasps of all the other people in the diner.

Dean pushes the now dead woman out of the booth, onto the floor, and scrambles over her as he follows Sam out of the diner quickly. They run to the Impala and Dean climbs into the drivers seat.

"Oh my god!"

"Sorry, but-"

"No way! That was AWESOME. Did she see how she just like exploded with friggin electricity! Holy shit! How did you learn to do that!"

Sam swallows. "My brother taught me."

Dean dreams that night. He and Sam check into a no tell motel just off Route 80. Dean wants to drive through the night but Sam assures him he should be well rested for the rest of the ride. Dean finally agrees; somehow knowing Sam is right.

He may be crazy but he does make sense most of the time.

And for some reason being around Sam calms Dean. He has no idea what's to come when he gets to his parents. He isn't even sure what the hell he is doing anymore. To some, taking a car from someone he doesn't know and driving 1000 miles with someone he doesn't know could sound insane.

But to Dean is just feels…natural. Like he's known Sam his whole life.

Dean dreams of Sam. They are running down a dark back ally. They are being chased and Sam keeps turning, running backwards, and firing a shot gun into the darkness. Growls follow and Dean keeps running, yelling at Sam to hurry up. To keep running.

Dean can feel the gun burning a hole in his back pocket and the knife in his belt as he runs. He can smell the metallic odor of blood and taste in his mouth. He keeps looking back for Sam; this constant need to protect him becoming overwhelming.

But he just keeps running and when he realizes Sam is no longer behind him he screams his name over and over; his voice echoing through a dark and empty night sky.

Suddenly the sky opens up; rain pouring down on him. He becomes heavy not only with water but with pain. He falls to his knees in a puddle and when he looks up he sees him.

"Cas?"

"You need to go back, Dean. This journey will only lead you to more pain."

"What are you talking about?" He tries to stand but a force is keeping him on his knees. Like kneeling before Castiel is something…cosmic.

"Dean, I assure you. Nothing good will come of this."

His voice booms like thunder in the stormy sky.

"I need to see my parents." Dean whispers.

"Nothing good will come of this. Turn around. Go back. Back to Sam."

"I'm with Sam."

"Go back to Sam, Dean. "

"Cas, I don't understand. I need your help."

"You already know the answers. You just need to wake up now."

"I don't know anything! Everything is so familiar but I can't remember anything! How do I know Sam?"

"Go back to Sam."

"Why do you keep saying that? I AM WITH SAM."

"Go back to Sam. Turn around. The wall is about to crumble."

"What wall?"

"Turn around."

Dean awakens in a sweat; shooting straight up in bed. He looks frantically around the dark room; his eyes slowly adjusting. He can hear Sam's heavy breathing in the next bed. He swallows and rubs his hand over his face.

He never used to have dreams like this. He never…

"Bad dream?"

Dean gasps at the sudden break in silence.

"Uh. Yeah. You could say that."

"Wanna talk about it?"

Dean closes his eyes, taking a small breath. "I was dreaming of Cas."

The old motel bed creeks as Sam turns on his side, his back to Dean, pulling the blanket up over his bare shoulder. "Glad to see some things have stayed the same."

Dean was shaken all the next morning. He kept looking over at Sam and staring, trying to figure out exactly what Castiel was trying to tell him in his dream. Sam ignored it, most of the time. But sometimes he couldn't.

"Seriously, man. What?"

"What, what?"

"You keep staring at me."

"Am I?"

Sam sighs with annoyance and heads around the Impala to the drivers side.

"Uhhh, what are you doing?"

"Getting into the car."

"Not on my side you're not."

"You're side?"

"Yes, I drive. That's the deal. My trip. I drive."

"You are so bossy."

"BOSSY?"

"And short."

"I am not short."

"You're shorter than me."

"The fucking Chrysler building is shorter than you!"

Sam bursts out laughing and chucks the keys at Dean. "Jerk."

Dean catches them and slaps Sam's arm as they pass each other around the front of the car. "Bitch."

They reach Lawrence just after three in the afternoon. When the Impala rumbles past the welcome sign, Sam immediately feels sick to his stomach. He knows this won't end well. He knows whatever is wrong with Dean; whatever dream he's stuck in; whatever sickness his brain has contracted; he knows coming back home was never the best thing to do. But Bobby assured Sam; even though the outcome might not be the cleanest; in the long run it may be the only way to prove to Dean who he really is.

Sam understood but still believed it was the worst idea possible.

Sam had his own issues. His own demons he was still dealing with after being…re-souled.

He walked around for over a year without a soul. He did things; some he remembers, some he does not; that he can barely live with. Bobby told him he knew something was off. Different about Sam. He just wasn't sure what.

And that whole time Dean was missing, Sam can remember…not caring.

He just hunted. And fought. And killed. It's all he knew. And in his mind he felt he was better without Dean.

He wasn't.

He was weaker.

Sam knows now that even with his soul, without Dean, Sam was just a shell of a person. Together they made more sense. Together they were a team. Pieces of a puzzle that only made sense to them.

They were family.

The same day Dean was suddenly in the back junk yard behind Bobby's house was the same day Sam was just about to leave Bobby's after a routine 'Yes I'm still alive and I'm fine' visit when a sharp heart attack like pain filled Sam's chest and he fell to the floor screaming in agony. Bobby told him white hot light radiated from his chest. And that when he awoke a few hours later, he was…Sam again.

Bobby went out to the back shed to get more beer and found Dean, lying face down in the dirt. Bobby called for Sam and when they touched Dean's shoulder to rouse him, Dean began to scream and flail around.

Sam punched him in the face and he passed out.

It really was the only way.

Castiel came when Sam called for him but Sam knew Castiel was already on his way knowing of Dean's 'return' even before Sam could call. Cas tried to explain. Explain how he did it for Dean. To help him. How much pain he was in because Sam was gone. OR supposed to be at least.

And when the question was asked of how Dean was now BACK as well as Sam's soul, let alone Sam himself, Cas could offer up the only explanation he had.

Family. Fate. Destiny. Blood.

And who told him this?

God.

Of course.

Did Sam believe all that? He isn't sure. His whole life he was used to things happening that couldn't be explained.

And yeah, he had a lot to take care of on his own, for his own sanity now that his soul was fully in tact, but right now, the most important thing, was to get Dean back to where he needs to be. Back to knowing the REAL Dean Winchester he is.

Dean shoves the Impala into park and looks at the run down abandoned house he called 'home' his whole life. Sam has his own pangs of sadness in his stomach. He doesn't know this home. He never did. But he knows it's where his parents lived. Where Dean lived. And where he lived for 6 months of his life.

"I don't…" Dean throws open the car door and doesn't bother to close it before he runs up the sidewalk. He stops short; just a few feet from the front door.

A front door with fading chipped paint. A front door with boards barricading it. A front door with a sign telling no one to dare trespass.

Could they have moved? How long was he at the guy Bobby's house? It couldn't have been that long. The house looks like no one has lived here in…

"Dean."

Sam appears behind his brother. Dean continues to stare at the house that he can no longer call his home.

"How could they…where…I…"

"Dean." Sam puts his hand on Dean's shoulder and squeezes gently.

"I don't understand. How…how do I remember this house? How do I remember you? And I look at Cas and I feel 2 different ways about him. Things I remember and things I feel." Dean turns and stares into his brothers eyes.

"Who am I, Sam? Who am I?"

Sam leaves a sleeping Dean in the motel bed and goes outside in the warm Kansas air. It smells like it always had. Like memories he wishes he had. And a life he never knew.

He thinks about what Dean knew, even if it was for a short time. A life with their mom and dad. Happiness. No hunting. Just…a normal life.

Sam cannot even begin to think what that would be like. To know a life other than this. He wonders what his 'other' world would be like. Would he be with Jessica? Would Dean have never existed like Sam had never in his world? He would never know. And he hopes to never know. Because this world, no matter how fucked up and painful it is, it's real. And Sam would take real over any type of fake happiness any day.

And from he sees his brother now going through, he knows the consequences.

Dean has no idea who he really is. He has no idea what is real and what's not. Dean doesn't even think Sam is real.

The entire ride to find a motel after going to their old home in Lawrence was quiet. Sam drove while Dean leaned his head against the window, eyes glazed over. Sam isn't sure if he was indeed crying or if he was just so…confused that that was the only look he could have.

Sam is angry. At himself for what he did that caused Dean to be this way. To be so depressed and miserable that he would agree to go into something that was obviously so detrimental. Sam could have made a different decision.

But he knows deep down there was no other choice. And he had to believe, he had to keep the notion that everything happens for a reason and that not all destiny was in deed bad. But right now, with seeing how much pain Dean was in, he had a hard time believing in anything.

Sam looks up to the sky and closes his eyes.

"He needs you." He whispers.

The familiar sound of wings fills the silent air and Sam's eyes open softly.

"Hello, Sam."

"I don't know what to do."

"There are no easy answers."

Sam turns to find Castiel with an unusually painful expression on his face.

And in this moment, Sam realized just how much Castiel had witnessed. How much he had gone through. With Dean. For Dean.

And how much pain he is now. Because of what he did. For Dean. Because all it did was make it that much worse.

And Sam realizes that as bad as he feels, Castiel feels 100 times worse.

"This isn't your fault." Sam assures him.

Castiel winces. "I wish there was something I could do. But all we can do now is wait. Wait for him to figure all this out."

"You should go be with him."

Castiel shakes his head. "I can't."

"He needs you."

"No. He needs you."

Sam smiles. "No, I'm pretty sure if there is anyone he needs right now its you, Cas."

Dean's eyes flutter open and he can immediately feel the comfort in the room.

He knows so many things have changed. How much is different. But one thing remains the same.

"So, are you still gay?"

There is silence for a while. "Human Castiel is gay."

"And what are you?"

"I'm an angel again."

Dean's blood runs cold. Cas is an…angel? What the hell is going on?

"And angels don't have sexual preference?"

"How are you feeling?" Castiel avoids the question.

He doesn't have an easy answer.

"Well let's recap. I have no idea who I really am. I just found out my parents are dead, I have a brother I never knew I had, and apparently my best friend whom I've known most of my adult life is really an…angel. So how do you think I'm feeling?"

"I would think you would be feeling quite confused, then."

"Bingo."

Dean sits up and rubs the back of his head. "Where's Sam?"

"Taking a walk I suppose."

"Why are you here?"

"I wanted to make sure you were okay."

"Are you going to give me any answers here, Cas? I deserve to know the truth."

Castiel nods, his lips thin and pursed. "A lot of it has to be learned. Not told."

"What the hell does that even MEAN, Cas? Come on. Give me SOMETHING."

Castiel turns to look at his once charge, then friend, then roommate and best friend, and now…

"This is your real world. The world you remember; with your parents and…us; is not real. I had you put there so you would no longer be in pain."

"And what was I in pain from?"

"Losing Sam."

"How could I have been in that much pain from losing someone I don't even know?"

"You do know him. He's your brother."

"He doesn't feel like my brother."

"Like I said. Some things need to be learned. Not told."

"How can I learn to feel something?"

Castiel stands and begins to pace around the room. "You were having visions of him even in the other world, no?"

"Yeah."

"The connection you and Sam have, as brothers, was stronger than anything I could have foreseen. It is what eventually made the other world fall apart and help Sam's soul return to his body."

"Sam's…soul?"

Castiel turns to look at his friend. "I believe now that Sam's soul somehow got trapped inside that amulet you had. When you broke it, it released Sam's soul back to him in the real world."

"Alright. This is getting a bit too heavy for me." Dean throws the blanket off his bare legs and stretches. "I still think this is just some kind of joke. That I'm gonna wake up and have my life back."

"Dean, this is your life."

"Life? You call this a life? Being a…hunter as you call it? Hunting monsters? Ghosts? THE DEVIL? What a bunch of bullshit!"

"Even when we in the other reality, Dean, you always said you could feel strange things. Sensed things. What do you think that was?"

"Good intuition!"

Castiel sighs. "Dean, I don't know how to convince you this is your real life. It is just something that is going to have to come to you with time. But you need to stay close to Sam. He will guide you."

"I dreamt you said that."

"You had a dream? About me?"

"Don't flatter yourself there, Cas. You were just telling me to stay close to Sam. To not leave him."

Castiel nods. "Perhaps your bond with me is also stronger than I could have foreseen."

"What? Are you really my brother too?"

"No. I rescued you from hell."

"So I was in hell, huh?"

Sam's eyes stay focused on the road ahead of him. "For about 4 months."

"And how did I end up there?"

"Cause you made a deal with a crossroads demon to bring me back to life."

"So how many times have I died?"

"About the same amount as me."

"Which is?"

Sam glances at his older brother. "A lot."

Bobby finds Dean in the junk yard. He's staring off nursing a beer on the hood of the Impala.

"Hey, son."

Dean gives Bobby a tiny nod and motions toward the small cooler. Bobby takes a beer out and leans against the car.

"How are you doing?"

"Okay, I guess. Trying to piece some things together."

"If there is anything I can do. Questions I can answer…"

Dean eyes Bobby. "You knew my dad?"

Bobby half smiles. "Yes. I had the pleasure of knowing John Winchester."

"What was he like?"

Bobby's smile slowly fades. "Exactly how you knew him."

"Sam said he was a hunter. I knew him as a mechanic."

"He was a mechanic. But he was also a hunter."

Dean huffs out a small laugh. "Jack of all trades, huh?"

"Listen, Dean. Your father is whatever you remember of him. It doesn't matter if he was a god damn Doctor or a toll booth operator. The only thing that matters is that he was kind. And brave. And extremely smart. And he loved you and Sam and your mother more than anything in this world."

"How did he die?"

Bobby touches Dean's shoulder. "Protecting you."

Dean feels his throat close in a way he isn't used to feeling.

"Sam and I are close huh?"

"You're brothers. I'd say so."

"I…feel it. I know it's there. I just can't remember."

Bobby turns and faces Dean. "Feelings are all that matter. All the rest of that shit can sit on the back burner. Memories. Facts. If you feel like Sam is your brother, than Sam is your brother."

Dean clears his throat. "You know, when I was in 'limbo' land, I was seeing him. Like…weird visions. I heard his voice. I remembered memories I know I never had. He was connected to me, even there. Where all I was trying to do was escape him. But I couldn't. The one thing I was trying to not remember, I couldn't forget." Dean huffs out a small laugh. "What do you think that means, Bobby?"

Bobby clinks his glass against Deans. "Means what you've been thinking since you got back. You just must be crazy."

Castiel finds Dean in the same position Bobby left him in at 3am.

"You gonna make this a regular thing?"

"I'm concerned about you."

Dean nods. "You know, out of everything, you're the only thing that seems real to me. I'm only at any real ease when you're around. And I find out your not even fucking human. You're an angel."

"Just because I'm an angel doesn't mean I'm not your friend. I care deeply for you Dean. There are times where I have gone to great lengths for you. I have sacrificed much to protect you. To keep you from harm. To make sure your pain wasn't too much to bare. That's how all this came to pass. You were in such pain…so tortured, I had to do something. I couldn't watch you…slowly wither away to nothing."

Dean is watching Castiel the entire time he goes on his confession.

He notices how Castiel's brow furrows when he is really concentrating on making sure his words are perfect. That is something I'human'/I Cas never did.

He also notices Cas's hand gestures. How erratic they are when he's trying to really prove a point.

'Human' Cas normally didn't have to try so hard to get his point across.

Dean finds these things…endearing. It makes this Cas; this angel Cas; the realest thing he has.

Suddenly glimpses, like shots of lightening through his brain, ignite behind his eyes.

Visions of torture. Burning bodies. The smell of melting flesh. Screams. Violent, torturous screams.

But then there was a light. A light that sounded like peace and beauty. And then a hand was laid upon him. And the screams disappeared.

Dean blinks. And he's back in the junk yard. Cas is standing in front of him, head cocked, his brow furrowed in the way that makes the entire universe somehow right.

"You saved me."

Cas shakes his head, not understanding him.

"You always save me."

"I have to."

"Why?" Dean whispers.

Cas decides that with everything else that had happened the possibility of the universe exploding is slim to none.

So he takes a step only perhaps 'human' Cas would have done.

"Because I love you."

"Okay. And?"

"AND? That's all you have to say?"

Sam takes a small sip of his beer and shrugs. "Yeah."

"This doesn't surprise you?"

"Not in the least."

"What? You're kidding right?"

"Nope. Ah, Bobby. We'll ask Bobby." Sam waves his hand at him as he walks into the kitchen.

"Ask me what?" Bobby takes a beer out of the fridge and leans against the counter next to Sam.

"Castiel told Dean he loves him."

"And?"

Sam gives Dean the 'SEE?' look and Dean throws his hands up in air, frustrated.

"I don't understand how the two of you can not be freaking out about this!"

"Dean." Sam sets his beer down on the counter and steps toward his brother. "I know there is a lot you don't remember. A lot you're still trying to piece together. And Bobby and I are doing the best we can to get you back to where you were before. So is Cas. But if there is one thing you're going to need to understand is that your relationship with Cas is…complicated."

"Complicated?"

"That's the most delicate way to put it."

"How about you don't put it delicately?"

"There's so much sexual tension between you two it could erupt Mt. Fuji." Bobby chimes in.

"Nooo." Dean bursts out laughing. "Guys. Seriously. I'm the straightest guy in the world."

"Yeah. You are. But then there's Cas."

"Who apparently as a human is gay." Bobby can't help but laugh as he takes another long sip to cover it up.

"That has nothing to do with this. He's an ANGEL. That Cas wasn't even real."

"Maybe it was. Maybe that really is who Cas is. Think about it, Dean. He got to live a normal life. He got to have a job and be free. And free for him is being gay." Sam tips his bottle at Dean.

"Okay, fine. But I'm just supposed to take all this in with stride? That I went to hell? That an angel rescued me? That he…loves me?"

"Why is that the weirdest thing? Dean, listen. There are things you are going to remember. Things that will shock you. Things that will make you happy. Things that will make you really fucking depressed. But never should learning someone loves you make you feel bad. Ever."

Bobby nods at Sam's words.

"I don't have to like…hug him or anything?"

"No. Not if you don't want to."

Dean breathes a sigh of relief and walks slowly into the living room.

"He's in denial." Sam offers.

"So in denial."

Bobby and Sam clink bottles.

The first 'hunt' Sam takes Dean on is a simple apartment haunting a few towns over from Bobby's.

Sam caught wind of it when an apartment complex's residents started to move out quickly and unexpectedly. They complained of the apartments being cold no matter how high they turn the heat up. Things breaking out of no where and weird sounds coming from inside the walls.

Most residents thought it was faulty wiring or a rat infestation. But of course Sam knew better and he believed this simple of a hunt would possibly bring Dean back into the game gradually.

Dean didn't get it. He complained the entire ride there insisting that ghosts don't exist.

"But angels do?"

"I still don't truly believe Cas is an angel."

"Oh, no? Then how do you explain him just appearing and disappearing out of the blue? And his wings?"

"Wait. He's got wings?"

Sam rolls his eyes.

The EMF is going crazy but Dean stays firmly by the front door.

"You okay?"

"This place is giving me the creeps."

"Of course it is. Because it's haunted."

"Shut up."

Sam continues to maneuver around the room, checking the highs and lows of the EMF detector. When he sets his bag down on the kitchen counter and gets out one of Bobby's large spell books, Dean takes a few steps into the apartment and peaks around the wall.

"What's that?"

"A spell book."

"A spell book? You a witch now?"

"No. But it's going to help me extract this ghost."

"And they say I'm the crazy one."

"No one thinks you're crazy, Dean."

"Why do you do that?"

"Do what?"

"Patronize me."

"I'm not patronizing you, Dean. I'm telling you the truth."

Sam finds the right spell and begins to chant.

"_Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus, omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursio infernalis adversarii, omnis legio, omnis congregatio et secta diabolica...  
>Ergo, draco maledicte et omnis legio diabolica, adjuramus te ... cessa decipere humanas creaturas, eisque æternæ perditionìs venenum propinare...<br>Vade, satana, inventor et magister omnis fallaciæ, hostis humanæ salutis...  
>Humiliare sub potenti manu Dei; contremisce et effuge, invocato a nobis sancto et terribili nomine... quem inferi tremunt...<br>Ab insidiis diaboli, libera nos, Domine.  
>Ut Ecclesiam tuam secura tibi facias libertate servire, te rogamus, audi nos."<em>

"Um, since when do you know Latin?"

Sam glares at him.

Dean sighs heavily and turns to find himself face to face with a very angry looking man.

"Uhhhh, Sam? Can I have a word with you please?"

Sam looks up to find the spirit inches from Dean's face.

"Dean. Listen to me. I'm going to throw this fireplace poker at you."

"Sam now is not the time to make a fire, no matter how cold it is in here. I'm sure if you notice but I believe I have a ghost here."

"Dean. I know. I'm going to throw this to you and you're going to hit him with it."

"Sam. This is a ghost. I can't hit him with anything."

"Dean, trust me on this, okay?" Sam chucks the poker and Dean catches it without even having to look.

"Did you see that? I'm like Batman."

"Yeah, you're Batman." Sam rolls his eyes and points toward the angry spirit.

"Oh. Right." Dean grips the poker like a baseball bat; using the stance his father taught him with all those years of softball, and swings heavily at the spirit. His form dissipates and Dean's eyes widen.

"Dude did you see that? I'm amazing."

Sam sighs heavily and grabs the poker from Dean. "Yeah. Right. Batman."

"This was fun."

Sam smirks and continues to stare out the passenger side window. "You think so, huh?"

Dean swallows and clears his throat. "Yeah. Actually this was the first time since…I've been back that I felt…"

Sam turns to look at him. "Like what?"

"Like we were really brothers."

"Everyday gets better."

"Good." Castiel continues to stare up at night sky.

"Are you ever going to see him again?"

Castiel purses his lips together. "Things are different now. I have a large role to play in heaven now. I cannot just…"

"He misses you."

"He misses the old me. The human me."

"No." Sam looks back at the motel room door. "It's you."

Dean wants to continue hunting. Sam fills him in on the things that go bump in the night and demons, Wendingo's etc.

One night Sam finally shows Dean their fathers journal. Dean takes hours reading it. Gently touching the pages; tracing over John's handwriting.

When he reaches the end he flips the back cover over to find a picture tucked in the sleeve. Dean removes it; his heart hammering away in his chest.

Staring back at him is the 3 smiling faces of his father, him and what Dean realizes must be Sam at a young age.

They are huddled around the Impala; John's arms draped around both boys shoulders. He has them pulled close to him like they are the two most important things in his life.

Sam notices Dean looking at the picture intensely. He sits down next to him.

"That's when Dad took us fishing with Bobby. He took that picture. That was one of the best memories I have of Dad."

"I wish I remembered this."

Sam takes the picture gently from Dean's hand.

"I wish I remembered yours."

Dean wakes up screaming.

Sam rushes to his bed; being careful not to startle or scare him in any other way.

When Dean's eyes finally focus and he remembers where he really is, he stares distantly into Sam's eyes.

"Dean, what is it? Tell me."

"I…"

"You what? What did you dream about?"

"Dad. I dreamed about Dad."

Sam nods.

"He's dead, Sam. It wasn't a dream I had. It was a memory. A real memory."

"Cas…"

Dean whispers into the air, counting the stars as he does. He missed the nights back home in Lawrence. When the stars took over the sky and you almost forget you're on earth. He remembered watching these stars with Anna after a date right before she let him kiss her goodnight for a good 5 minutes. Or the nights he and Cas would climb out onto the fire escape, drink a beer and talk. About life. About anything.

This new world; this reality; was complicated. And painful.

But it was real.

Dean cannot deny the fact that his old life; the false life; always felt off. He felt like something was missing. And it turns out something in fact had been.

His brother.

Bits and pieces were starting to fall into place. Who he really was. Who his father and mother really were.

And who Cas really is…or what he really is.

Angel.

Dean snorts at this and shakes his head. Well in his human life Cas was anything but an angel. Pot smoking, foul mouthed….gay.

Don't all those things like make Jesus cry or something?

"Dammit, Cas."

"There is no need to curse, Dean. I'm here."

Dean turns to find his old best friend dressed in a wrinkled trench coat and suit instead of his normal worn t-shirt and ratty old jeans. But his hair looked the same. That just rolled out of bed look.

That lack of change is somewhat comforting for Dean.

"What took you so long?"

"Sometimes it is not so easy to just come when you call, Dean. I have duties. Responsibilities."

"Right. Heaven and all."

"Yes. And all."

Dean picks up on a hint of sarcasm and it makes him smirk.

"I'm getting some of my memories back."

"Good to hear."

The wind picks up and the bottom of Castiel's coat whips around in the pickup.

"Do you ever miss it?"

Castiel's eyes fall upon Dean. "What are you referring to?"

"The old life. The…fake one. Do you ever miss it?"

"Sometimes. I suppose. Things were easier. I enjoyed being a human. Doing meaningless labor for less than satisfactory wage. I enjoyed the pizza. And hamburgers. I thoroughly enjoyed hamburgers." Castiel looks away. "And you. I miss spending all that time with you."

"Listen. About the other night…"

"There is no need to bring that up, Dean. Water over the bridge."

"Under the bridge." Dean corrects.

"Right. Under."

Dean takes a small step forward. "I miss it too. Spending all that time with you."

"I would have presumed you would have missed Anna. You two were quite involved."

"Stop, Cas. Stop being this Cas and be the Cas I know. The Cas who would stay up with me all night watching 80's movies. The Cas that got me to smoke pot for the first time. The Cas…I fell in love with."

Cas feels his heart begin to beat in his chest. But it isn't his heart, right? It's Jimmy's or…

"You're in love with someone who does not exist."

"No. He does. He's still in there, somewhere. If this is one thing I've learned through all this chaos and garbage of a fucking world its that no matter where we go, no matter what we do at the end of the day we are exactly who were are supposed to be. Even in that other world I always felt I was destined for something better. Something different than working construction. Like something else was out there calling me. And as scared as I was going on that hunt with Sam, I knew I was exactly where I was supposed to be. And I know then, in that world I was fucking in love with you. I saw you that day with Andy and I wanted to punch him dead in his face because you were looking at him the same way you used to look at me."

"I never looked at him the way I looked at you, Dean. I could never look at anyone the way I look at you."

Dean feels his skin catch on fire. "I have a long way to go. I have…miles to walk before I even remember how to hunt again. But I know Sam will be there with me. And Bobby will help me every chance he gets. But I can't even begin to think about doing anything without you being there."

"Dean. I'm an angel. It's what I am. It's what I've always been. It's all I know."

"Bullshit. You know how to be a human. You did it for months!"

"I learned everything from you!"

"Good! Then we can do this. Just…stay here. With me. With Sam. Hunt with us."

"Dean, stop being ridiculous. I can't just become human."

"Why? You did it before."

Castiel has no rebuttal. No rational comeback. Because Dean was right.

"God would never allow that."

"Then why did he before?"

"To help you."

Dean takes another step forward. Now he is inches from Castiel; the tables being turned for once; Dean invading his personal space.

"Then help me again."

"Took you long enough."

"It took me a while to find you."

"And how did you exactly find me?" He adjusts his robe so his boxers are completely showing.

"Someone said to me recently that no matter where we go or what we do at the end of the day all we are exactly who we are supposed to be. And deep down I guess you're…homeless."

Chuck laughs deep from inside his chest. "I like you Cas. I always have. Always been one of my favorites." He plops down onto the ratty beaten down couch and opens a beer. "What can I say? I got re-acustomed back into my old lifestyle. I think I'll stay this way. Maybe forever. Heaven's doing fine without me."

"I'm glad you uh…think so. It's why I am here, Father."

"Let me guess. You also want to go back to your former state."

"Dean needs me. He's beginning to remember and I think if I was there with him…

"He needs you, huh? Could be. But I think you need him more."

"With all do respect, father, but perhaps we need each other."

Chuck stops mid sip and looks up at his son. "I suppose you could be right." He sets his beer down on the coffee table in front of him and sighs softly. "Well, do you know what this means? What this really means? You will be earth bound. No reentrance into heaven. And you will grow old. And one day you will die."

"I know the consequences."

God breathes out and the sun sets.

**September 30, 2011**

The sunlight causes dancing images behind closed yet fully awake eyelids. Castiel moans still slowly getting used to the feeling of first waking up in the morning. And going to bed. And sleeping. Period.

"Hey. Angel cakes. Up and at em'."

"Angel cakes? Really?"

"What?"

The voices of Sam and Dean echo through the motel room and Castiel pulls the blanket up over his head.

"If you don't like it go back to your own room."

"Me? You are so freaking codependent you can't even get ready to hit the road without me in the room."

"Well sue me. I've only been doing it for like 30 years. My apologies."

"Yes. True. But now you have angel cakes to get ready with in the morning."

"Oh right. You see him. I can never get him up in the morning."

"Give him a break. He's still getting his sea legs."

"Oh give ME a break. He's never even been to the beach yet."

"OKAY! OKAY! I'm up!" Castiel throws the blanket off him and sits up, his hair sticking every which way.

"Oh good. Finally." Dean throws a pair of jeans at him. "Now get dressed. We should have been on the road over an hour ago."

This was typical now. Every morning Dean and Sam fight. Castiel tries to get a few minutes more of sleep and he fail miserably and eventually gives up.

He showers, usually with Dean, while Sam packs the car. They stop for coffee and breakfast before hitting the highway for god knows how long to the next stop on the map.

Castiel lives like a Winchester now. Dean remembers what living like a Winchester really is now. And Sam has his brother back now.

And angel cakes.

It took Dean a while to remember everything. There were nights he and Sam sat up talking; memories seeping into every crevice of the motel room. And it took Sam a while to get back to who he was. It seemed that with Dean's sudden reappearance back into the real world, his own soul renewal was looked past.

Sam had done horrible things during that year without Dean. Without his soul. He continued to hunt and not just demons. He knows he killed people. He didn't just wake up back with his soul one day and everything was perfect. While he and Bobby were so busy helping Dean, he had to help himself as well.

But Dean helped with that. Dean, as broken and shattered as he was, reminded Sam that it didn't matter what had happened in the past. That's why they call it the past. Sam couldn't change what he did. It wasn't his fault his soul was taken from him. And when he finally told Dean one night how he has spent that year without Dean when he returned from the cage, Dean cried. He cried for the pain his brother had been put through. But then he cried for the release of his soul.

If Dean had never shattered that alternate world, Sam would have never gotten his soul back. Dean realizes now that all those visions of Sam were warnings. That his brother was in some sort of danger. And going crazy and shattering the world, and now he realizes the pendant was the only way for the world to return to normal.

Dean still has memories of his old life. The life that wasn't real. But he believes in a way it was. It was a life to remind him what he was missing. What he would have missed if his life had been different. If Sam had never been born. If his life was normal.

And as much as he missed that life; his parents; the normalcy; this life was better. This life with his brother by his side. He was saving people. Hunting things.

The family business.

And he still had his best friend. The person who knew him better than anyone else. Even his own brother.

His best friend who had gradually and unexpectedly become the love of his life.

Dean knows now, after it all, everything happens for a reason. He could look back and be angry for what Cas did. Putting him into that alternate reality. But he had to. If he hadn't, Sam never would have gotten his soul back. Sure they would have searched all over the planet for a way. Perhaps a new deal would have been made with bigger consequences as usual. You know, the Winchester way. And Sam being re-souled perhaps wasn't the most conventional way but it was better than any other ways it could have gone down.

And most importantly Dean never would have found himself. The real him. The him he had been hiding behind guns and knives and hunting scary things that go bump in the night. That he could be Dean Winchester i'Hunter'/i but still be just…Dean Winchester. His fake world made him find the real one.

Sometimes you have to lose everything to get everything you ever wanted.

And sometimes everything you ever wanted was right there the whole time.

Dean knows now that life isn't always going to be paved like a yellow brick road. You won't always know where you're going. And that's okay.

Cause he will always know where he came from.

And where he belongs.


End file.
